Growing Pain
by somebodysomewherewantstodance
Summary: Letting the imagination roam over that age-old "what if..." motif. Continues after events of the movie. Don't approve? Don't read.
1. Chapter 1 - Eternal Sunshine

Author's Note: This story is non-canonical. In the original scripts, it was made blatantly clear that Leon and Matilda were lovers (not that the final version didn't subtext this enough...). I simply dream of an alternate reality. Die hard Leon and Matilda canon lover? Don't agree with the context? Better turn back now.

**Growing Pain**

Chapter 1 – Eternal Sunshine

* * *

><p><em>Why was everything so dirty… and so loud? What is that noise? Not the explosions or gunfire. No… that thumping, that incessant thumping - was it only the harried beating of his wretched heart? It made him go hot and cold all at once. When had he ever felt so alive? Since when had life unexpectedly, surreptitiously slipped into his being? Was it because of this warm bundle at his side? It must have been, because all he knew now, was not to keep calm and cool – a lesson so deeply entrenched in his mind and body from the past twenty years- but to protect her at all costs. Protect Matilda. Save her. Save himself. <em>

_He barely registered the pain through his arm when the wall broke underneath his hand – probably shattered a few bones, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was the wet bundle of mucus and tears that struggled against him. Why was she struggling? Shit, didn't she know they didn't have much time left? Her hair was dirty and her face streaked with tears. He reached out to wipe it clean, only to add to the grime already there with his dirty, calloused fingers. What? What? She wanted to – no. It's impossible. She has to live. He would make sure of it. _

"_I know I've put a lot of money with Tony I know I-"_

"_No! No… you're just saying that to keep me from worrying. I don't want to lose you again, Léon.." _

"_You're not going to lose me again, Matilda. You've given me… a taste of life. We're going to be happy-" His voice begins to shake, as if it was taking him everything he had to believe in his own words. "…sleep in a bed… have roots…you'll never be alone again, Matilda." He tried to swallow, but it only came out as small gasping breaths._

"_Please… go now, baby. Go!" _

_She looked into his eyes, unable to speak, choking on the tears that would not stop pouring out of her wide, hopeless brown eyes. They were so childlike, in their desperation, and so, so sad. Leon found his voice hoarse, the aching within his own soul drowning out all outside noise, until he could only mouth the words. Go. Go. _

"_I promise you, Matilda… I promise…" He rubbed her hands with his own large brown fingers, covered in dirt, grime and blood. She was slipping away, and for a moment, he was frightened by the sudden urge to draw her back to him, to draw her close and never let go. _

"_I love you, Matilda." _

_It was what he had never been able to say until that day. Looking into her large hazel orbs, so hopeless and desperate, he found courage to put his feeling into words, and to let go. _

"_I love you too, Leon." _

_What happened after was all a blur. The moment she slipped through his fingers, his life was no longer his. Shaking like a leaf, the giant of a man stood from his kneel, and without knowing why or how, he howled. It was everything that had been kept inside for so many years – under lock and key. Everything the world had never known about Leone Montana, the cleaner of Little Italy. And then, All he could remember was a loud explosion, flashes of light, lots of black clad men, and …the open door towards freedom to the outside world? He dared not believe it. It could not be this easy. There was a blue taxi on the other side of the street, waiting for him. And Matilda, she would be waiting for him, and his plant and…Norman Stansfield. _

_Bastard. He was so close to the door, he could see it… the sunshine, taste it, freedom, so sweet and slightly tinged with the scent of summer. Instead, there was only the metallic tang of blood – slowly filling his lungs. And the smug face of that rat bastard Stansfield, with his dirty, greased blond hair, and that smirk of his. _

_He made sure he wasn't smiling for too long, however. It was the least he could do, for Matilda. _

"_F..rom…Ma..til..da."_

_Matilda. _

_Ignoring the confusion in Stansfield's expression, he closed his eyes. _

_I'll be waiting for you, my sunshine. _

_All before the world was drowned in the most brilliant explosion of white._

* * *

><p>"-sie!" Streams of light poured through half closed window blinds, illuminating thousands of particles of dust slowly floating through stale air. It was the perfect environment for an afternoon nap. Warm, soft, sunshine. None of that incandescent crap. Real sunshine…<p>

"Elsie!" If he didn't have a legitimate excuse for this, there will be blood.

"El-whew! Have you ever heard of vacuuming?! Or air conditioning…What's with all these boxes?" Elsie opened her eyes, and for the first few milliseconds, saw nothing but brilliant white light. Panicking slightly, she lifted her head a few inches from the table upon which she had mindlessly dozed, and looked around. Inconspicuous brown suitcases, half filled, and boxes of all the junk that had slowly accumulated in the past three years. And standing in the midst of the modest but slightly outdated office space stood a thin gangly man with sandy hair and bottle cap glasses that were at least a few centimeters thick, if not an inch.

"What do you want. I'm busy." She grumbled, and lay back down upon the warm tabletop. It would be a long time before she could ever sleep on it- or even see it again, for that matter. She had to make the seconds count.

"Wh-… oh no. Don't tell me…" Elsie heard the realization in his tone, and squeezed her eyes shut again, willing peaceful daydream and slumber to resettle. "That's right, I almost forgot - you've been assigned to scrubbers haven't you." Elsie groaned. Stanley – oblivious, obvious, unnecessary, redundant, standstill, sandy Stanley. She'd forgotten there was a reason they called him that.

"Well… where are you going?"

"Mnewnorg."

"Huh?"

"New York. Friday." There was a pause. "Oh, that's too bad. Because, you know, the Yeminov case –well, I thought you might have wanted to know that he's here. In the quarter, actually. At this instant." Elsie's eyes shot open, and within a second, her head snapped up in response. Even from the distance, Stanley could see her pupils restrict under the sun – normally they were so dark it was hard to distinguish the black of the pupils from the iris, but at that moment, he realized for the first time that they were the color of red wine.

That gaze - of which the meaning was completely lost upon him –left him baffled. What kind of a mutation was that? It must be some pigmentation disorder. Elsie, not having received any positive response to her silent question regarding the veracity of his claim other than a slightly slack jawed and baffled expression, arose and quickly marched to the door. Stan followed briefly, and raced to catch up with her as she sped down the unoccupied corridors.

"Just my luck," She grumbled, scratching her scalp in frustration. "of course, it just had to be that only when I am about to leave, this kind of miracle happens."

"Wait, Elsie- wait! Did you know your eyes are the color of clotted blood under the sun? Have you ever noticed? I think it may be some sort of-"

"Aw shit – forgot my key - What's the authorization code? Quick!"

"Uh, 627-TJL-8390." _Beep beep_. Good. She marched through their cramped quarters tucked away neatly within the bowls of the building and through the narrow emergency only staircase. Four flights later, they broke through the heavy metallic door toward the glass windowed walkway separating the city investigation bureau to the district police headquarters which on this particular Saturday afternoon was filled with busybodies. Abruptly stopping and peering into a door to the side, she glimpsed her reflection off the pane of glass above the doorknob and jumped slightly. Her disobedient short locks which under normal conditions was at best as knotted and fluffed as a wild lion's mane, now extended in all directions seemingly in direct defiance to the laws of science and gravity.

Recalling a rather embarrassing incident during her intern years, Elsie quickly shook her head, and after a moment's contemplation, licked her palm and smoothed everything back from the hairline. No use. Screw it.

"Hey how's it going – listen do you have a minute I need a report update-"

"MOVE! People! Make room!"

"'scuse me, commin' through…pardon me-"

Growling with impatience, Elsie weaved through the sea of bodies through the hallways, down one end and then around another corner, People were forced against walls and she swore she heard a child crying somewhere. Sweat broke out upon her neck and face, as she led their way. The crowd dimmed and slowly more space was available through the halls as they made their way down to the temporary detainment area.

Two three four… two three three… two three two… two three one. Bingo. When they opened the door, they were immediately greeted by four police officers and a nosy intern nearest to the door within the cramped dark hole of a room. Other senior officers and inspectors idly occupied chairs brought in for the highlight of the day, and there was even the scent of stale coffee lingering in the air. They slowly inched toward the front, were the Chief Inspector and Superintendent stood before the black window, murmuring to the officers in charge who Elsie noticed were practically swollen with pride. They settled off to the far side of the wall with other members of their bureau and division, who offered several nods and updates.

"Good Lord, it's hot in here, eh?" Stanley smiled awkwardly, and polished his glasses. His hair was matted upon his forehead, and the crisp blue shirt wrinkled with dirt and sweat from their frenzied excursion.

"Unbelievable, absolutely unbelievable. Ya know where they spotted him? That son of a bitch – he was on the metro at central crossing, hooking up with some sleaze bags. Caught by a patrol officer for illegal activities this early in the day. Didn't realize until later it was Isaac Yeminov." A portly man in his mid-forties grumbled, taking a drag of his quickly diminishing cigarette.

"Can't they turn up the air conditioning in here?" A younger officer complained. Several cheers encouraged his remark, followed by a round of snarky comments from the police department group, who took the opportunity to debase the investigation department for their lack of physical tolerance and endurance.

"Who's conducting the briefing?" Elsie asked, leaning against the blackened one way mirror.

"Eli Westwell. Who else." _Aw, shit. _Of all the guys it could have been, of course it had to be Eli. At that moment, a hush went around as the lights slowly brightened within the inner room. Elsie narrowed her eyes with a scowl as the people within came into bright contrast.

Elsie felt a rush of excitement. There he was, criminal convict Isaac Yeminov, Serbian underground drug lord and key to the chain of investigations regarding black market smuggling within and around the city and even as far as down the east coast. His eyes were open, and albeit being only narrow slits, she could see a pair of dark brown eyes that hazily rested upon one corner of the room. Stan mumbled to himself beside her, going through the list of offenses they had stacked up for him. Her eyes soaked in his every detail, until a permanent image was imprinted upon her memory. It was only then that she saw, sitting across from him, calm, placid almost amused, detective inspector Eli Westwell.

"I was surprised he's the one doing the briefing." Stanley whispered beside her. "I thought he was busy with the capital case." Elsie stared at the grey shirt collar sticking out of the top of his suited back. Damn it. The excitement turned into a sour feeling in the pit of her stomach. The dope deal was supposed to be hers. It should have been her sitting across from that thin yellow teethed bastard. It should have been her, perfectly at ease, within a conditioned room that smelled nothing like body heat and stale coffee. Instead, she was being sent to scrubbers.

Why couldn't have that bastard Yeminov made his appearance two weeks earlier? Then maybe the extra incentive for her to stay would have kept her at her current position. Shit. Shit. _Shit. _

Eli Westwell was keeping his cool, even as Yeminov began to clean his fingernails. He got up from his seat, and turned to pour out some water into two waxed cups. "Stop. Wasting. Time." Elsie snarled, seething. The man was graceful enough to smile as he poured out the water slowly. She could have punched him, it was close enough. If only the glass wasn't there to protect his handsome little face.

The briefing lasted a mere hour or so, before a break was ordered. When the suspect was safely led away by armed officers, the door to their conjoined room finally opened, and people began filing out into their respective duties, or else the common area for further discussion of the case – their first break in almost a year of fruitless research. As they made their exit, Stan was quickly caught by a fellow colleague who wanted to discuss forensic evidence. Grinning to him, Elsie quickly slipped away and began heading back toward her office and safety haven. There were a few points Westwell missed, enough perhaps to guarantee her a spot on the team and a chance to stay.

"Holden! Holden- wait – Elsie-" There was only one person aside from the Chief Inspector who dared be so familiar as to refer to her on a first name basis – she quickened her steps hastily, eager to avoid all possible confrontation. Unfortunately, as she turned a sharp corner, a rolling cart from the forensics department blocked her only path to freedom. Left with no alternative, she groaned mentally and turned to find herself face to face with man who had without any unease in conscience, stolen her job.

"Detective Westwell, what a surprise." She couldn't help the sarcasm in her voice, and it seemed as if he heard it for the briefest of smiles twitched his lips.

"What's with the rush? Haven't finished packing yet or something?" Elsie stared into his blue eyes, searching for any trace of taunting or ill will which she could use as an excuse to break his nose. They held their invisible contest for a few moments more, before she sighed, and turned away. Even though she was quite tall, he was almost six feet two, which meant excessive neck pain to glare for prolonged periods of time. It wasn't worth it.

"What do you want, Westwell." She grumbled, resuming her walk at a normal pace toward their collective department. He walked in sync beside her easily. "Well, first, I want you to call me Inspector Westwell – since we are equal ranks at the moment." _At the moment. _She snorted, knowing exactly what he meant.

"Actually, I wanted to ask you about the case. You were a pivotal member of the team first assigned the case, and seeing as such a valuable resource will soon be out of reach, I thought it wise to take advantage of the little time you have to consult you on the best approach."

Elsie stopped, and turned to seethe at him. "The _little time I have left_, I won't care to waste on such useless attempts." She snarled, satisfied to note that he looked a little shocked. They continued to march through the corridors and walkways, this time at a faster pace. Eli ran a hand through his loose locks, rubbed the back of his head, and looked at her sideways.

"I didn't ask to take your case – you don't have to get so defensive." She sighed. He was sly, this one. Playing the guilt card even like this? Well so what if she felt jealous and hurt and angry?

"I'm being deployed to scrubbers, Westwell. There's a reason they call it that – I'm going to fucking scrub up some dirty orphans and volunteer my time to the little jackasses. Give them hope or something by setting a good example. What could you possibly want to gain from me?"

This time, he intercepted their pace, and stopped her. "Just a chance to talk. I know there's more to this than what we've scratched at the surface. And you know it better than anyone. Will you help me? For the sake of the common well-being. Come on, Elsie. Have dinner with me. Tonight, I'll arrange everything."

"I'm busy tonight."

"Tomorrow then. Your flight's on Friday – you can't possibly have scheduled something the night before." She hesitated at this reasoning, and he smiled, knowing he'd won. "Thank you. I'll pick you up at eight. Don't forget."

* * *

><p>Elsie sighed, looking about her in dismay. Her apartment, which had sustained her for the past seven long years, now looked forlorn, cold and empty. Most of her things had already been sent off in preparation for the flight next day, all except her most personal possessions which were portable enough to remain in suitcases. She looked at her wrist watch – eight ten. Waste of her time, bastard.<p>

However, just as that thought flew through her mind, the doorbells rang, loud and clear in the otherwise quiet suite. She contemplated feigning her own absence, but the persistent rings which came now more frequently demanded her attention.

"You're late." She grumbled half-heartedly, closing the door behind her.

"Traffic." They took the elevator down and out of the complex, across the street to where his car, a sleek black sedan was parked. A few minutes of silence ensued as they drove towards their destination, before she remembered that he hadn't informed her of its exact location.

"Where are we going?"

"The Lux Grande." Elsie looked at his calm countenance warily, and noticed for the first time that evening that he had taken deliberate consideration to his appearance. Silk shirt, black suit, hairs smoothed back, yet purposely limp against the sides of his face. And then, she saw the toothpaste stain slightly to the left of her crotch. Decrepit grey sweater, old jacket, and sneakers. That bastard. She was sure he did it deliberately, so she would be embarrassed one last time before leaving town. Well, screw him. He was paying- at one of the most expensive restaurants in the area, at that and she would make sure to make the most of the meal at least.

When they arrived within the restaurant, Elsie realized how much she had overestimated her own bravado. Scowling, she quickly sat down at stared at the menu in feigned ignorance of the obvious stares from those around them. Elegance and posh simply didn't come naturally to her.

Eli raised an eyebrow. "What's the matter, doesn't suit your taste?" She ignored him, and ordered the most expensive item on the menu. Giving him a smug look, she was surprised that he had the grace to look so poised and unfazed even as the waiter hesitated uncertainly when the words left her mouth. Bastard. She turned away sullenly.

"Elsie? Why on earth are you ignoring me? This dinner was supposed to be conversational in nature, remember?" She glared at him angrily, and then sighed.

"Fine. Let's just get this over with. What do you need to know?" He paused, and then sighed as well.

"Alright, well if that's what you want. Let me see... okay first of all, why did Yeminov let himself get caught? I'm supposing he was thrown out of the circle, but even then, it makes no sense that he would just surrender like that."

"Most likely he was forced – you know how tightly the mafia are linked to the drug trade."

"Names?" She looked at him in irritation. Did he know how long and by what measure it took her to get them? Like hell she was telling him.

"Was it the Boris group?" She blinked. Boris group was a new addition to their list of possible connections to the case. How the hell did he know anything about them? "I think there's still something missing in this equation." Eli continued unfazed, scratching his chin slightly.

"No…Boris group was only the first affiliation traced, but the story goes beyond that. Beyond Boston; wherever the drug trade goes the mafia follows. The Serbians do business like that – and then usually the Italians respond with forces. It's a win-win situation for both parties, as you know."

"But that would mean the origins of this came elsewhere. A third party involved." Eli responded. Elsie leaned forward intensely, for the moment oblivious to her envy and irritation towards the man sitting across from her.

"Listen. Whenever I try to backtrack on the system, no matter where I start – whether with Yeminov or Boris or their associates, I always end up at the same place. A void, a nameless void somewhere, who does the business transactions from one end to another, from one hand to another. He's stashed countless years' worth of goods for himself – and it seems everyone goes to him for business, but nobody know exactly where he is. Then, about nine months ago, he disappeared. Do you remember the September riots? That had to do with this, I think. It seems that when this unknown force disappeared, several parties who had collaborations underground were left hanging – without the middleman; they couldn't even see the other side. In such confusion conflicts arose – akin to the Yeminov case. People had to be discharged, somebody to take the blame and-"

Elsie suddenly stopped, looking blankly at Eli who had a smile on his face. _Shit. _She gave too much away.

"If I'd known you knew so much, I would have asked you out to dinner earlier. I had no idea- and just took a gamble today because, well, quite honestly, I didn't know what else to do." He grinned, and swallowed some wine.

Too horrified and outraged at herself for such stupidity, Elsie could only splutter indignantly. "You-took-you _what_?!" How could he-!

Eli laughed at her expression, and gently swirled his cup. "-of course, there was a personal benefit that was more or less the core of things, but really I didn't expect you to really have had insider information on the case."

"Wait." She took a deep breath. "You said that you wanted to exploit me before I left since I was a pivotal member of the investigative team."

"Well, I may have exaggerated it a bit." Elsie groaned. Eli watched her stab at her meal sullenly.

"You really think I'm a sleazy bastard who's shallow enough to use others just to get ahead, don't you. You really always thought that…?" She glared at him, and then resumed her vegetable mutilation. "What, you're not? That's what you'd say of course." She replied sarcastically.

Eli blinked, and then sighed. "I just wanted to have dinner with you before you leave." He paused. "The stuff about the case – well, it was supplementary, I guess, but really, I don't want you to think of me as a louse when you're in New York. I only said this was for business because I knew you wouldn't have accepted if it was for pleasure."

Elsie stared at him, and then narrowed her eyes. "So you didn't want to talk business. You didn't even think I had anything worth offering you in this matter anyway." She took a deep breath. "So why the _hell _are we here!? So that you could clear your terrible track record in my memory before I leave? So I can broadcast your greatness and virtue in New York to my colleagues?! What's the reason? This is not your idea of a pleasurable evening."

"We're here because I took a chance today, for personal benefit. This _is_ my idea of a pleasurable evening- or it ought to have been, in my mind at least." Eli paused, and lightly traced his thumb tip against the stem of his wineglass. "In my mind, having dinner with you is exactly what I would call a wonderful evening spent." Elsie stared at the man sitting across from her, looking at his wineglass as if it were the most interesting thing he had ever seen. Eli Westwell, standing at six feet two, was a sight to be beheld. It wasn't by chance that whenever the criminal investigation department was scheduled for a press conference, he was the one chosen to represent. At thirty seven years old, he was at his prime. Broad shouldered with a slim waist that was rare to find within their department, there had once been a rumor spread more likely than not by bitter rivals that the only reason he wasn't married nor interested in pursuing a relationship was that he was gay – a rumor squashed almost immediately by his squad of female admirers. In light of these facts, it was a well-known fact that they did not get along together, were people of different species entirely.

Elsie prepared to snort at his blatant lie. However, before she could Eli finally raised his eyes from the wineglass, and looked at her calmly. She flinched at his cool steel grey eyes that held hers. She had been one of those who wholeheartedly supported the 'homosexual Westwell' theory, so why was she so damn nervous?

"Ack. I wouldn't be able to hack this apart with a chainsaw. Imagine the damage it'll do to one's digestion – where are the waiters in this place? I thought this was a four star restaurant-"

"Elsie." _Shit. _"do you still think I'm a louse?" She nervously looked back at him. He had reason to be confident of himself – it didn't matter what she thought anyway.

"Why the hell are you suddenly curious about what I think of you? What does it matter what I think anyway – it doesn't matter." She repeated firmly. He frowned at her response.

"Why do you think that?"

She sighed in frustration. "Because – well, because you're Eli bloody Westwell our paragon of excellence, damn it! We hate each other, remember? Look – look at me and then at this background, into which you so easily amalgamate. I'm an odd piece of the puzzle. We're two different people who do _not_ associate for pleasure. Or even business."

Eli sighed, and ran a hand through his soft brown hair, which immediately fell back smoothly. "See?! _See?!_ There's a reason we don't get along-" Elsie ran her own hand through her hair which immediately stuck in its new bizarre position.

"What?! Because my hair is smoother than yours? Oh, Elsie, you've got to be kidding me-"

"-we're different people that should not mix for anything." She paused. "This, let's call an exception. I was hoodwinked, kudos to you."

Eli sighed, but this time there was an angry fire to his eyes that wasn't there before. "I wish I'd gotten to this bottom to this earlier. I regret being so hesitant before. Why do you always retract back into your shell and never confront the issue as it stands before you? You know what you remind me of sometimes? A coward." He suddenly leaned in, and grabbed her hand. Elsie froze in horror, the knife with which she had been spearing peas randomly still within her grasp, which was now within his.

"W-what do you want, Westwell- " Eli looked at her closely.

"I want you to stop assuming things that aren't true." She looked at him uncertainly.

"Like – the fact that I want to crush you so I can move forward. Or that I'm gay." She stiffened at the last part, and looked away guiltily. Eli raised an eyebrow, and let go of her hand "You really did think that?" He asked incredulously.

"A lot of people did." She grunted. "Your own damn fault for never having a girl around, even though there were plenty for you to choose. You just never seemed interested – it was a logical assumption."

"I never had a girl around because I already had one in mind. I never seemed interested because I was already interested. It's just that she's incredibly insecure, self-defeating – overall dense, never seems to respond to me, and in fact seems to hate me with her guts. No, in fact, she's told me she hates me deeply."

Elsie spluttered indignantly. "Dense? Now you're calling me dense?" Eli raised an eyebrow and smiled. "I wasn't aware you knew who I was talking about." She stalled, appalled at the words that had so carelessly left her mouth.

"I'm greatly disappointed that the day you finally realize the truth is the last day I'll see you."

"It's better this way – you can realize your insanity sooner." Elsie muttered.

Eli laughed. "Promise to keep in touch, Elsie. And at least let me try to get closer to you." She opened her mouth to retort, but he stopped her. "In return, I'll keep you updated on the case."


	2. Chapter 2 - This Empty Soul

Chapter 2 – This Empty Soul

* * *

><p>Summer. What was so good about it? Matilda never understood why her peers and classmates counted down to the beginning of summer every year. True, the weather got better, but living within the private boarding school with nobody to go back to, no home to return to – summer vacation became her most despised period of the year.<p>

She snapped open the dusty blinds of her dormitory window, and looked out into the courtyard. The school was made in the shape of a rectangle with an open expanse of greenery in the center. On the other side, iron bared fences marked the end of the inner city school boundaries. Her bedroom window was at the corner of the third floor, and from her viewpoint she could perfectly watch for her plant – no, Leon, as she named it. She'd planted it beside the other trees and flowers that made up the courtyard garden, though a little ways off so as to avoid others from accidentally damaging it. She'd made sure it was at an angle where sunlight could penetrate its leaves all year long. Watered twice daily, it had grown roots quickly, and had already sprung up in nature's soil so that it reached her belly.

Nine months ago, when she first arrived at the school, she'd been afraid it wouldn't adapt to the soil conditions. But it seemed that Leon was supposed to have roots. It adapted well, the opposite of her own condition. Even though her thirteenth birthday had passed merely two months ago, it seemed as if she could never again amalgamate into the world of adolescent school children. In all of her classes, Matilda rarely spoke – only when spoken to, and even that had to be forced. Her grades were mediocre, reflective of the amount of care and work she put in. She wanted to leave, to go back to that familiar part of New York that was now so far away – Little Italy, people called it. Back to where she and Leon had lived together, happy, satisfied. How could they understand? How could any of her classmates, teachers, psychology professionals, understand that she had experienced more in her thirteen years of existence than most people have ever encountered their whole lives? It is only normal that she could not fit in.

A deep resonant bell rang through the building, signalling dinner was ready. Slowly shutting her blinds, reluctantly tearing her eyes away from Leon, Matilda turned to gather a few books she'd borrowed from the library, and made her way down to the dining hall. There weren't very many students present during the summer holidays; most had gone back to their families. Of those who stayed, she was the youngest by far. Even teachers were sparse at this time of year – only as many as it took to run the place, prepare food, and some reluctant ones who'd picked the short end of the straw. There were two new staff members though, who in order to get accustomed to the school before the September rush had moved in already. One was a health professional, a pristine young nurse who always looked immaculate – once, Matilda could have sworn she heard her vomit in the toilets, but when she came out of her stall, the same crisp white smile which Matilda had grown to hate remained on her face, and not a hair was out of place. The other was supposedly a police officer, though she didn't look anything remotely like all the other policemen or women she'd ever encountered.

In many ways, she was the exact opposite of Marilyn the nurse, as Matilda decided upon calling her. Marilyn - for Marilyn Monroe. It was either that or blonde Barbie. Considering outward appearance, the policewoman could not have presented a better contrast with her large woolen jumpers and thick overcoats. She had slightly tanned skin, dark hair which she did nothing with – often, Matilda suspected, leaving it the way it happened to be in the morning. Matilda thought she looked almost tropical, perhaps even with some central Asian blood– or maybe born somewhere in the Mediterranean. Unlike Marilyn, she hardly ever smiled and looked rather grumpy for the most part. As if she would rather be a million miles away than spend her days with them. For that, Matilda decided she didn't dislike her.

As she walked through the corridors, finally reaching the dining hall, other faces finally made their appearance. Middle and high school children chattered and laughed as they walked in their groups – seemingly always able to talk about something. She quietly lined up with her platter, and sat down at the end of a long bench. Mashed potatoes, peas, carrots, gravy. And a cup of milk, of course. But that, she would save until the end.

"Hey, squirt. Yeah, brown-nose." Matilda pretended she didn't hear the words, and quickened her pace. "I'm talkin' to ya, you little ass-wipe." It was a girl, probably in the final year. They were the worst. It seemed as if she was with her friends, from the sound of their giggles.

"Hey, what's your name again? I forgot." Matilda looked up into a pair of narrowed brown eyes, shining with malice. She recognized the face, and those of her friends behind her. There were about five of them, two boys, and three girls. It wasn't a fight she was willing to take on.

"It's Matilda."

"Oh –she speaks! The freak speaks!" Laughs went around, and Matilda lowered her eyes back to her dinner. From the corner of her eye, she saw the teachers at the head table, scattered and idly sitting around either chattering with one another or reading newspapers. It was either they didn't care, or pretended not to notice.

"Excuse me." Matilda got up, but a tall lanky boy stopped her. "Hey, how's your plant, freak?"

She paused, and slowly looked up at him. He laughed, and looked to the others who encouraged him to continue. "Yeah, we've noticed you take pretty good care of that guy, eh." Matilda's eyes widened. They were talking about Leon. What did they do to him!?

"What kinda plant is it? Is it very… expensive?" A girl with unnaturally bright red hair yawned. It was fake Matilda knew, because when she did it, her hand covered a sly smile. "Leave me alone." She tried to back away, but the boy put a hand on her shoulder.

"Hey, don'cha wanna be friends? What's wrong with you? We just wanted to hang out, you know… hey isn't it about time for you to go check on that guy again? Give him his water break? You even have a name for it, right? What is it, your boyfriend?" Rage boiled in her veins as she looked at him evenly.

"If you even so much as touch it, I'll make sure you will live the rest of your life in pain." She said quietly. Her body was shaking with anger.

"Oooooh, she's pissed now." The girl from before laughed. The boy narrowed his eyes, and leaned in. "Oh, yeah? Well, that's too bad because I can't really remember what I did… why don't we go and have a look?" Matilda's eyes widened as they began making their way out of the dining hall. She was forced to walk ahead of them, feeling their eyes follow her every move. The sun had begun to set outside, and cast an amber glow through the dining hall windows. She was sure the other students saw what was happening – even some of the teachers must have realized by now. But nobody made a move to stop them, each telling themselves and those around them that it was probably just a game, nothing more.

* * *

><p>Elsie swirled the mashed potatoes around on her plate. She'd always hated potatoes mashed; it looked like a pile of bleached baby barf. Jesse sat on her opposite side, chattering away about the nutritional value of various roots and vegetables. They were the only two new recruits, or volunteers, rather, because they sure as hell didn't get paid. She supposed it was alright for Jesse, she was an intern fresh out of nursing college and needed the experience. But she wasn't even a bloody cop – they just put her here because there wasn't anywhere else that wanted her. Sure, it was something everyone in their field of work had to do, volunteer their time to the community from time to time (more to satisfy society than true heartfelt desire to give back), and yes, she'd never so much as lifted a hand to help an old lady cross the street, but that didn't mean they had to make her satisfy all her bloody social hours at once and in such a nasty way. Who knew people further up ever kept a record on such things anyway? If she'd known ahead of time, she would have done the occasional department runs for charity and whatnot. A couple hours sure beats a year beats months in this hell hole. And everyone knew it was just that- no matter how much they tried to lift the spirit and surround it with pretty words. Community service, exchange internship, shit, shit, utter shit.<p>

Elsie wished the blonde would shut up already. Her voice was too high. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a group of kids stand up. She hated kids. Good, get the hell out of there. They laughed, and one at the front pushed something. As they turned to leave, she got a clear look at that object, and saw with some surprise that it was a small girl, maybe only thirteen years old. She'd noticed that girl before, with straight short brown hair, and dark intense eyes. She was always alone and very quiet. At that moment however, Elsie thought she saw a desperate sadness and hate in her features – she was being targeted.

Blinking, Elsie sat up from her slouched posture, suddenly fully awake. She looked around at the other teachers and staff members, who carried on with their evening nonchalantly.

"Hey, those kids look like they're up to no good." She said to a nearby staff member who sat two chairs away from her drinking his coffee. He idly looked up, and then back at her absently. "Oh, just kids with their activities, you know. Kids like to be kids. There's nothing we can do about that."

Elsie stared at him incredulously. He folded his newspaper, and got up without a word. The few others that were at the table also prepared to leave. Looking back at the group, she noticed that they had already exited the hall, and were nowhere to be seen. Elsie arose, and walked in the direction they were heading. She followed them as they made their way out of the school building, and into the western courtyard.

"-what, you crying? I was feeding it the good stuff. You outta be on your knees, thanking me. Lots of nutrients in my piss, ya know."

Matilda stared at the plant before her, of which only several stalks remained. They'd ripped out its leaves, and peed on it. Her Leon. She didn't even realize when the tears fell onto her cheeks. "You sons of bitches." She gasped, voice shaking. "I'm going to KILL YOU ALL!"

She turned around screaming, and lounged at the nearest one. It was another boy, with sandy hair and freckles that ran down his arms. She knew this because he'd caught her and instantly twisted her arm around. Yelling, she kicked back and sent a punch straight into his nose. She felt it squish under her knuckles, and heard him howl in pain. His friends ran up to tend to him, and two girls pulled her hair and arms. "You little bitch-"

The boy held his bloody nose in his hands, and pointed to her. "You're going to pay for this- come on, hit her!" Matilda felt the punches come, and squeezed her eyes shut. She kicked out, and twisted like Leon had taught her. Memories of how he'd trained her to be strong flashed through her mind through the pain and she continued to fight them.

"-op! STOP!" A different voice yelled, and slowly, the hits diminished. She felt herself fall to the ground, and curled up instinctively. The tears continued to run down her cheeks, not because of the burning sensations, but because of the knowledge of what they'd done.

Elsie grabbed the two girls' arms, and pulled them away from the younger girl who felt slumped onto the ground. "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?!" She snarled at the five teenagers, who looked guiltily at one another.

"It's not our fault! She broke Brian's nose – look, he's still bleeding!" The first girl protested. Elsie turned to her seething. "Your friend there got no more than what he deserved. I saw what you were doing in the dining hall." The girl closed her mouth, and looked to her friends nervously. They knew she was the new police officer in charge. She wasn't so easily persuaded.

"Let me make this clear." Elsie looked at all of them. "I don't give a shit about what the other teachers allow or don't allow, but if I ever catch any one of you doing something like this again, I'll personally make sure you'll get double of exactly what you dished out. Got it?"

The group nodded, and inched away nervously. "Get him to the nurse, and screw off." The kids didn't need a clearer order, and quickly scrambled away. Elsie watched as they quickly disappeared, and then turned the girl who had painfully pulled herself up with her thin arms, until she knelt before the fallen leaves of her plant. She'd noticed this girl before, always silent and reclusive. "Hey, you alright?"

"Fuck off." A thin trickle of blood ran down her nose, and she quickly wiped it away, smearing a trail of red that mixed with the flood of tears upon her cheeks. Matilda looked up at her, and Elsie saw the bruises upon her neck and eye that already began to turn purple. But it was her eyes that stopped her from leaving, those dark brown eyes full of hate and anger, and pain. _Shit. _

Kneeling down so they were eye level, she turned to look at the mutilated plant remains. "What species is this?"

"I thought I said leave me alone." There was a pause. "You don't give a shit about us, and even if you did, it's not like there's anything you could do."

Elsie sighed in frustration. "I can do something about those bruises." The girl gave her a sideways glance, but remained stubbornly silent. Elsie reached out to examine the leaves of the plant, but the girl snatched out her hand, and stopped her. "Don't touch him." _Him?_ She raised an eyebrow. Strong emotional attachment to a …plant? At her age?

"Well, we can't just leave it here. Or you." Elsie scratched her head. "We could move the roots and lower stalks into a pot, and hopefully it can regenerate."

Matilda looked at the woman before her doubtfully. "Why?"

Elsie stared at the girl incredulously. "What do you mean why? You want to spend the night here? If I hadn't found you out, eventually someone would have. It could be very much worse. You might have had to speak with a higher up, or spend the night in the nurse office with ginger."

"No, I mean… why are you here?" The detective opened her mouth, and then closed it again. That question she had no answer to. "You don't even want to be here, doing this job. So why are you helping me?" Elsie frowned, examining the girl more closely now. Had it been so obvious that she despised her new position? That was probably true.

"Yeah, well, there are things that you must do, even if you hate them. Duties. You'll understand when you're an adult."

"I understand."

"Well then, you ought to come with me. Uh, here." She jogged over to the side of the courtyard, where several spare clay pots lay, still dirty from the plants that had resided within only recently. Matilda took the pot slowly, watching Elsie's moves, and then turned to unearth what was left of her Leon. "You need to put some dirt in first-" Elsie dug around with her hands, until she reached the soft earth beneath the surface, and then transferred handful after handful of moist soil into the clay pot. They slowly took the plant by the stems, and dug around its roots until the whole things was unearthed, and then covered what was remaining in the jar with excess soil.

Matilda brushed off some dirt on the stalk and leaves, and then struggled to lift the earthen jar. Wanting to help her, but knowing that she would refuse, Elsie only led the way toward the staff quarters parking area. To both of their relief, they met no patrolling staff members. They made their way to a small blue Chevy, and Matilda automatically got into the front seat. As she drove toward the gates, Elsie suddenly paused. "I think you should have more questions for me." She only got a blank look from the child beside her.

Messing her already disarrayed hair, Elsie continued. "Like for example, where I'm taking you, whether I'm a safe person to be around. Questions like that."

Matilda stared at her. "You're taking me home with you for the night, aren't you?"

"Well, yes, but-" Elsie looked at the kid, and then back to the road. "How'd you know I didn't live at school like the other regulars?"

"There wasn't space. Officer Martin is still going to come back when school resumes, so you couldn't take his place. I've seen you leave after dinner."

"You're quite smart."

"That's not called being smart. It's being observant."

Elsie sighed, and continued driving. "You probably know that this isn't the proper way to do things. But I have a bad feeling about leaving you there tonight." She muttered. The other staff members didn't seem to mind the abuse and violence between children, but she wasn't so sure that her little threats earlier would be enough to pacify the gang of seniors. Since she had no place to stay at the school, it just meant the girl had to go with her.

When they arrived at her apartment, several people shot questioning stares toward the duo. Smiling as best she could, Elsie quickly ushered them into the elevator, and then down toward the last room on the third floor. "Here, put it on the counter for now." As she flicked open the lights, Matilda looked about her. It was a small suite, with a conjoined lounge and kitchen. Aside from the small closet to the left, there were only two doors to the right, one to the bathroom and the further to the bedroom.

She placed her plant on the small square dining table, and then turned to Elsie in silence. She had ventured into the bedroom, and came out with a large white box of first aid materials. "Come here." Matilda followed her into the small bathroom, where she put down the toilet seat and sat upon it as she was told.

Elsie soaked a towel in warm water, before kneeling before the young girl. She pressed it against her skin softly, and slowly added pressure as she went along. "I never got your name."

"Matilda."

"Matilda." Elsie mumbled absently, wiping away the grime and tears mixed with blood.

"Matilda Lando, but it doesn't matter what's at the end of it. And you're Officer Holden."

"You can call me that, or most people prefer Elsie. It's short for Elsephora."

Matilda raised an eyebrow.

"Don't look at me as if I chose it."

Matilda watched her as she worked at her bruises, ignoring the slight sting of pain she felt. She examined the woman before her, not for the first time that evening, though less surreptitiously than the previous times. She still frowned slightly, brows lightly knit together as she concentrated upon her wounds. "You're not really a cop, are you." Elsie stopped, and stared into a pair of empty brown eyes.

"What?"

"Your gun. It's not properly assembled – the framework is too lose, and you're wearing it wrong. And I'll bet anything that it's unloaded." Elsie gaped at the girl before her, and then slowly undid her holster and belt. "And how is it supposed to be?"

Matilda reached out for the gun, and swiftly examined it. It was a common hand pistol, 10mm auto. Almost too easy. She crossed her legs, and took it apart, then placed it back together in its proper form. "May I ask where you learned that?"

"What are you really? You're not a cop." Elsie couldn't help but grin at the girl's fierce look as she responded with a diverting question of her own.

"I'm a detective from a special investigative unit branch of the Boston police department. Even though technically we're not part of the police force, their rules apply to us. One of them states that we have to engage in charity and volunteer work to, well, spruce up our image. I hadn't done a single hour since my first day, and unfortunately – someone kept track of these things. So I was automatically volunteered to take up this position working in a young adult community with you kids. There."

Elsie stood up, and stretched, cracking her knees and back as she did so. "Aw, man. It's getting late. There's a bunch of extra toothbrushes and things in that cupboard – go wash up and off to bed. I'm going to make a call so you don't get into trouble when they can't find you during roll call or morning services. The bedrooms the one next door." Matilda stared at the back of the woman who sauntered away stretching the muscles in her neck, messy dark locks tousled in all directions. She watched as the older woman picked up an old comforter, and sat upon the couch with phone in hand.

Matilda closed the door, and crawled under the covers of the wide bed and stared at the ceiling for what seemed an eternity.


	3. Chapter 3 - All Roads Lead to Rome

Chapter 3 – All Roads Lead to Rome

* * *

><p>Elsie sighed as she looked through the records Eli had mailed. They were making progress, but at such a slow pace that it seemed as if with every step forward, they were going two steps back.<p>

"There was another phone call for you today." Matilda said from the small kitchen table where she had her notebooks open. Elsie hummed in response, eyes glued to the papers before her. It was a Saturday, so she'd had time to work on some stuff from Boston. Almost half a year had passed since Elsie first brought Matilda into her apartment, and since then, she'd talked the principal into letting Matilda live with her under the condition that she entitled herself a legal guardian and foster parent. It was a good excuse for the both of them, as Matilda was able to transfer out of the boarding college and into a private single gendered school, while the heartwarming story of rearing up of a foster child was able to successfully convince Elsie's department officials to move her back onto the case. It was also perfect that she remained where she was, as the New York area was one of the central areas of their investigation.

"What do you want for dinner?" Elsie asked, chewing upon the end of a pen. "Pizza?"

Matilda looked up from her homework, and made a face. "Not again. How about Chinese?"

Eating out of cardboard boxes had become the norm for the two. Matilda mused over what Leon would say if he saw her living now. It was inevitable though, as neither of them knew anything when it came to the culinary arts. "It was him again." Matilda pretended to be highly interested in getting the last piece of chicken meat from her wing, but watched Elsie's expression from the corner of her eye all the same.

Elsie swallowed a particularly lumpy piece of broccoli, and looked at her. "Oh, yeah?"

Matilda leaned in seriously. "He asked me how you were coping here alone, with me, and all that. I don't think he likes me very much."

"Don't be ridiculous. Eli doesn't like anybody. He's a miserable snob to everyone."

"I think he likes you."

"Matilda… what did I say about this topic?"

"Don't talk about it."

"Right." Matilda shrugged and got up to pour herself a tall glass of milk. Elsie watched her lazily with slight interest. "Do you have OCD? Obsessive Compulsive Disorder."

"…Not that I know of." The girl replied. "Why?"

"There isn't one day that you don't drink milk with your meal. Thrice a day. What's up with that?" Matilda paused, and suddenly sat very still. Elsie watched her with increasing interest, and slight unease and confusion at the strained silence that now lingered between them. For almost a minute, the two sat without speaking, and just when she had begun to suspect that the girl didn't hear her properly, Matilda spoke.

"Why did you voluntarily entitle yourself as my legal guardian? You could have just faked it."

Elsie blinked in surprise. "Weeell… you needed help, and it happened that I could do something about it-"

"What about all those other kids who need help? What about those alcoholics, the people who sleep on the streets – don't they need your help more?" Elsie dropped her chopsticks with a sigh. As if she could have gotten away with this one so easily. "You… remind me of someone. Someone…a kinda really important person to me. Initially it was only for the earlier reason, but then, you turned out to be not so bad. Save the excessive milk consumption."

Matilda tried not to laugh at her additional comment, but smiled nonetheless. "Oh, if you think _I _drink too much milk…" She trailed off, and then stopped. Hesitating for a moment longer, before deciding that the woman before her was about the second person she had ever met in her life who truly cared for her, she began her story.

As the startling tale of her young life unfolded, Elsie found her dinner quickly abandoned. She stared at the child before her – for she could only truly be called a child at her age – with growing incredulity that could have on many occasions leapt into the realm of disbelief if it weren't for her serious expression and the memory of the way she so expertly handled her gun.

"-and then, I never saw him again. Tony wouldn't let a kid work for him, and the money Leon made all those years were gone along with him. The rest, you can clearly see." Matilda finished.

Elsie sat quietly for a few moments, processing what she had heard. "That explains the plant and milk, huh." She finally said with a weak smile. "I take back what I said. Earlier, I mean. I said that you reminded me of someone kinda important to me. What I meant was that you reminded me of a younger version of myself as a kid. I was an orphan, and assumed you were too. I'm sorry for misjudging – you are obviously much braver than I was or ever could b-."

Elsie froze. She sat stone still for nearly a minute, during which Matilda raised her eyebrows and waved several times in the air before her eyes. The inspector saw nothing but a racing cloud within her mind's eye. This stream travelled backwards and forwards, linking piece after piece of the puzzle until finally, the whole picture emerged. Elsie blinked finally, and re-emerged from her thoughts. She grabbed Matilda's arm, and looked at her in barely contained anxiousness. "You mentioned…your parents. How did they die?"

"My father was involved in a drug deal, and cheating them from some. One day the DEA came – the bad ones. And they found him out. They killed everyone."

Elsie nodded quickly. "And the ringleader's name was Norman Stansfield?"

"Yes, he was crazy. But he's dead now, Leon got him. For me."

"Nine months ago. That was the last time you ever saw or heard of either men?"

"…yes." Elsie felt her pulse thump loud and clear in her ears. Norman Stansfield.

It was a gift from God.

* * *

><p>The next few days were spent in restless research and phone calls. She'd immediately notified Westwell on her luck in chancing upon the missing link they'd been searching for, and within a day, was faxed all the information the Boston team could get their hands on regarding the Drug Enforcement Administration crook. The majority of them gave no insight to the case, but halfway through her browsing, she found a short article detailing the day of the incident.<p>

_Unidentified bomb detonation…senior DEA agent Norman Stansfield single casualty after isolating bomb in unoccupied building space… within range..._

Elsie frowned. _Single casualty… _If Stanley had had the opportunity to watch her at that very instant, he would have noted a change in the woman's gaze that was not so very different from the one he saw all those months ago in the quiet little dusty office. He would have seen the way light queerly reflected off what should have been dull brown eyes, changing them to an intense deep mahogany. And, with this second opportunity for observation, he may have concluded that an idea, a connection, a realization must have had dawned upon the woman to have produced such an effect. His potential assumption given such circumstance was inevitably proved correct as Elsie snapped into action, quickly browsing through the rest of her pile, before placing a phone call to the New York's DEA Field Division Offices. This relayed her to a retired field officer, who kindly referred her to the Pernasso Hospital staff, who, after almost twenty minutes of hold, told her that an unnamed patient of the field division had indeed made his way into their emergency ward that day, but since they had been particularly busy all week and therefore couldn't spare the manpower to devote all energy to this man who bore what could only be called life-threatening wounds; had had him deported to the city's General Hospital. Elsie swore quietly, mentally groaning at this cat and mouse game, before taking a deep breath and dialing again.

Luckily, this time, there was no wait at all. It seemed that said unnamed field officer, who'd suffered so much, so long, for the sake of his country, had waited in a comatose state for the past nine months as the state paid for his medical expenses. Nobody knew where he came from, since his uniform had been ripped apart by the paramedics the moment they found him, abandoned, unconscious, alone and miraculously still alive in the burning building; and nobody had ever stepped up to offer support as family or acquaintance. Amidst the rush of Pernasso, nobody thought to take down identification cues of the man that was pushed into the emergency ward, and then pushed out again all in the span of minutes. All they knew was that he had been with the DEA field division, and had narrowly escaped the bomb detonation by a hair's width.

Elsie put down the phone, and slumped back into the decrepit living room sofa. She sat like this, thinking over the facts for hours until the lock rattled in the door, rousing her from her thoughts. Jumping up in shock by the passage of time, she stuffed her files into a pile before Matilda walked in with her backpack in hand.

What fruits born of hours of laborious thinking flew away at that instant. Elsie swore in her head, turning away from the girl. It was the quickest and most direct way to question the man called Leon, but she couldn't even be sure it was him lying there comatose or not. Only Matilda would know. But what if it wasn't? What if it was some random guy at the wrong place at the wrong time? She knew it would break the girl's heart again. And what if it was? What does it matter? The man would have been in vegetative state for nearly a year now. Elsie tried to empty her head of all the possible scenarios that she's imagined for either case.

"There was a stray dog downstairs, and the creepy Fu Manchu on second floor killed it with a shovel. It's head came straight off, like some sick puppet and-" Matilda stopped, and closed the fridge with milk carton in hand. "Something happened." She said slowly, turning to look at the older woman.

Elsie stood in a gray sweater, dark hair sticking out in all directions almost a flashing warning of the storm to come. She opened her mouth, and then closed it. "Put down the milk, Matilda." She finally grumbled, foresight warning her of possible spillage. Matilda did as she was told, and then looked up in hesitant expectation.

"I want you to … come with me somewhere. I need you to help me."

"With …your work?"

A hesitation. "Yes." Matilda was definitely suspicious now. "But you never let me in on your work."

Elsie sighed in slight vexation, and scratched her hair vigorously. "Just… this once. It's something I can't do by myself."


	4. Chapter 4 - One More Time

Chapter 4 – One More Time

* * *

><p>It was when they walked into the hospital that the first inklings of fear began settling in. Matilda had felt no trepidation, only curiosity, during the four and a half hour drive, filled with nothing but the sound of the rusty radio and then lengthy periods of silence in between. Not even during their dinner at a shady diner on the side of the road did she feel a fraction of what she felt now. By the time they'd walked into the building, it was already dark outside. The hospital was enormous, and blinding lights shone from every ceiling top, illuminating already bleak whitewashed walls typical of such institutions. She subconsciously moved closer to Elsie, who after consulting the front desk had a nurse lead them through one corridor and down the other. Twice, they stopped for their host to greet cleaning staff and a nurse, and then silently continued down their way.<p>

It seemed their destination was in one of the highest floors of the building, where most of the hustle bustle of medical personnel and civilians had died down. The rooms had several or individual identifications, and looking through the open door of one such room, Matilda saw a pale man sitting near the window on a wheelchair his bed a messy array next to him. The lifeless eyes that slowly turned to gaze back scared her, and she quickened her pace.

"Here we are." The nurse stopped outside a door with a single ID slot, and took out her key. Matilda's heart hammered in her chest as the door slowly, agonizingly slowly, opened to a dark room lit by only one dull blue panel light above the patient's bed. Perhaps it was the uncertain silence, with which Elsie regarded her the entire afternoon, or perhaps it was precognition, but for some reason, she knew what was behind the door before it had fully opened. But fearing that she may have tricked herself, setting herself up for bitter heartbreak and disappointment, she'd let the evening roll on without bringing that iota of hope to the forefront of her consciousness. However, now as they entered the room, all her inhibitions broke.

Lying with his eyes shut, IVs running as veins down his arms, and a breathing tube connected to a large machine was the lifeless, shapeless form of the man she had loved as her one and only family. Matilda felt the world shatter around her, the floor crumble, no sound but the dull thumping of blood in her ears. Her vision grew dim, and it was with a strength she didn't know she had that the girl stumbled toward the bed.

Elsie sighed – whether with relief or regret even she couldn't tell. She nodded to the nurse, who quietly left the room. Matilda shook as she lifted her hand to trace the fingers, arms, cheek, nose…

"Leon…" The girl choked, and it was all Elsie could do to hold her as she began to cry. Elsie pulled a nearby chair over, and they sat there for what seemed an eternity. Matilda couldn't keep her hands off the man who lay as if a corpse without any reaction. She whispered to him all sorts of nonsense that in any other situation Elsie would have laughed at. But the inspector could only swallow in vain at the lump that had formed at her throat at the sight.

"Elsie… I need to stay here tonight." Matilda finally croaked, still not tearing her eyes away from the man.

"Yeah. I know." There was a period of silence before Matilda spoke again.

"You said… you said that you wanted me to help with your work." Elsie hesitated at the direction of her question. "If this… if Leon has to-to do with your work… then when he wakes up… promise me you won't take him away again."

_Shit._ The kid had brains. Elsie watched the man wired to so many machines monitoring his vitals it was as if he were part robot. She looked him over slowly, and noticed the residual blue green shadows extending beneath his eyes. Ignoring the plethora of bandaging and cast work, she noticed the sagging of his pale flesh that pooled around any and all his joint areas. But still, she could see the distinct shadow of a once bulky man - one who had obviously lost a significant amount of weight. He must have been quite fit before the incident. She noted quite a lot of extraneous scars scattered upon his body in all areas – including several healed bullet wounds, and messy stitching that was definitely not completed by anyone remotely professional. The details of the story to this man which Matilda had told her before flashed before her mind.

There was no visible response from him, not even a flicker. "Granted you wake him up, I promise."

* * *

><p>For the next few months, they traveled from the apartment to the hospital every weekend to spend any time they could take away with the invalid. It was difficult to argue their case to the hospital. Without statement of familial relation they would have had no access to see him, but with such an affiliation came the impossible responsibility of proving his identification for continued government support on all related medical expenses. In the end, Elsie had to acquiesce to signing as the man's 'responsible', and only after a fantastic tale (which included raising a child on her own and hearing of the child's father only recently to travel all around the country to search for his body) and several rounds of begging did the unimpressed woman who manned the patient files agree reluctantly to use up whatever funds they had left for him before chequeing her as his 'responsible' and dependent. She agreed to leave his position and status as a governmental field officer as unidentified and probed no further on the premise that Elsie knew no more than anyone else did, and was only offering support as an act of charity toward a most unworthy 'father of an angel of a child who had suffered not knowing who or where her real daddy was'.<p>

And so they continued their weekly visits, each seemingly more hopeless then the last. But throughout the weeks, Matilda never lost heart or hope. She did everything she could to bring life into that dreary hospital room, sometimes with fresh cut flowers, sometimes an article from her favorite soft toys. She talked to the motionless man as if he had been perfectly normal, sitting there listening and talking back to her. And maybe, just maybe, even dead men can catch some of the conversation of the world above, hear a little bit of the ring of life – enough temptation to make them stir in their graves in desire to take back for themselves some of that same life.

Hell was quite a lot colder than he'd expected, was the first thought that floated through Leon's consciousness. From the sliver that he managed to peek through, he saw only the blurred shape of things as they were. Cool blue walls and a strange sound of beeping. For a moment, he had the crazy idea that he'd somehow been taken up to heaven instead, and the incessant beeping the trumpet of angels heralding him, like in the storybooks.

Suddenly, there was a shrill sound that shattered his thoughts. It hurt him and he found himself at once unable to breathe. At that instant several lights snapped on, blinding him. It must be the sight of God. He really had been taken to heaven. But the light burned him, and a biting and unnatural cold suddenly overcame his body. Something prodded him all over, and if it weren't for the sharp pain, he would have laughed at the odd ticklish sensation that accompanied it.

"-eon – Leon! Leon!" His eyes didn't work, but the sudden sound of a voice calling somewhere far away – the sound of a voice calling his name stirred within him such a strong desire to awaken that he began to struggle against whatever held him down. He needed to search out and find the source of that voice, even if it killed him twice over.

Elsie could barely hold the young girl as she screamed and clawed within her grasp. The room was suddenly filled with people, nurses scrambling to take readings from the many machines while doctors tore away the patient's blanket and clothing to examine him in closer detail. All in the span of seconds, chaos had broken into what had been a quiet and insignificant Saturday morning. She had been reading over some case documents when Matilda let out her first shriek at the finger that twitched upon the bed.

The man's eyes had open slightly, and now as the medics bustled around him, it seemed that he caught some of the panic and began to move in all futility against them. Matilda's yells turned into cries, repeating cries of his name, begging for a miracle.

Leon's head rolled automatically toward the source of the sound, and from in between fast moving bodies in aquamarine gowns, he saw a blurred shadow of a child held by a bigger shadow. _Matilda…_And with that thought, all at once an insurmountable strength overcame him.

"His heart rate is skyrocketing. Hit him with a sedative."

"_Now?!_ He's just come out of-"

"Reaching 185."

"Hit him!"

Matilda watched through thick tears as the sliver of an eye that turned to look straight at her glossed over again, and slowly disappeared. She leaned into Elsie and began to cry.


	5. Chapter 5 - Lane Change

Chapter 5 – Lane Change

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><p>When Leon woke up for the second time, he noticed that it had become darker and stiller in the room. The incessant beeping was still there, but that he recognized to be the sound of machines. He was miraculously still alive. And Matilda was waiting for him.<p>

Leon twisted his neck painfully to the same spot, but this time, no Matilda-shaped blur was there. He tried out different parts of his body, and found his members excruciatingly painful and stiff. He waited for several moments before gathering his strength to try again. This time, he managed to move a few fingers and toes, although it exhausted him to no end. So instead, he began adjusting his eyes to the world again. Slowly, Leon made out the shapes around the room, and quickly realized he was indeed in a hospital. Using all his strength, he lifted his left forearm about an inch and ignoring the pulsating headache that followed, he examined the thin pale arm covered in veins and small tubes that connected him to the life supporting machines.

"You really are incredible." Even through his fatigue, Leon felt his mind suddenly clear in alertness borne through the sharp instinct his job gave him. However, it was futile to do anything with his body as it was, and he knew it. He could only turn to look at the source of the voice and wait.

A woman in her late twenties or perhaps early thirties frowned at him. She was tall for a woman, and had a tougher build than average, which was always a wary sign - although by one glance he knew that she possessed none of that distinctive and dangerous aura that accompanied every female assassin he'd met throughout the years. This woman had the messiest hair he ever saw, stuck out and piled upon in all directions. It put him at ease somewhat to see the inefficient and harmless grey sweater she wore, but more so, he saw within her eyes a hesitant doubtfulness that bordered on anxiety as she examined him.

"Matilda is sleeping. I promised to look after you, and wake her when you're alive again." She mumbled, and then pressed down the arm that he still held half-raised in the air. "Good Lord, you're invincible, Leon Montana."

Leon's eyes narrowed at her, and it seems that she noticed his mistrust for she pulled over a nearby chair, and backed into it with a sigh. "If you really are the badass with a heart of gold Matilda told me you were, then you'd agree I won't wake her up. She's had no sleep for two days." Leon noticed the dark circles under the woman's own eyes, and his guard softened somewhat. Besides, he reckoned she could have killed him a dozen times over by now if she'd wanted.

"I guess you want to know who I am, and what the hell happened since you 'died'." Leon looked into her eyes steadily, and then moved his head ever so slightly up and down once. Elsie sighed, and nodded back to him.

* * *

><p>When Leon first saw Matilda, he thought he was dreaming. Even as her small body approached his, and finally grasped into his weak arms, he was afraid. His weak liquid arms refused to hold her tight, and it was only her own strength that kept them together. He dared not move a muscle, or even breathe too heavily for fear that it would rip them apart. Twice, he tried to speak, but found his throat tight and constricted – rusty from disuse. So he waited.<p>

He needn't have feared that Matilda would leave him again, or be offended at his lack of word, for the girl talked to him as naturally as if nothing had occurred once the first flood of tears subsided. She must have waited for him a long time, and gotten used to this, Leon thought.

And indeed, Matilda never grew tired of talking to him. Usually mundane things, like school and the world outside. In the first few weeks, she never spoke of the year after his presumed death. She kept it simple and sweet, to give him time to recover both body and soul. Eventually, however, as his strength increased, and he began to speak – or rather croak, at least at first – urging her with questions as to how she had lived when he was absent from the picture, Matilda began to tell him the truth about everything. Leon tried to assume a nonchalant air and expression regardless of whatever she spoke, but when the weekends ended, and Elsie took Matilda back to school, Leon would sit by himself, sometimes looking out the window, sometimes doing his strengthening exercises, with his blood boiling beneath the surface, anger strumming with every beat of his heart.

They would pay for their lies and manipulation, Tony and all the rest. He would make sure of it. And he will get back every penny that was owed to him – all the endless jobs in the middle of the night, and near-death scrapes; they will pay back what was not theirs to begin with.

Four and a half months after, the hospital declared him ready to be released. Under the pretense of temporary memory loss pertaining to the moments before his 'incident', the hospital had continued to fund his stay for as long as they could with government support, with the continued supposition that even if he hadn't been a field officer, he would have been a bystander casualty whose compensation would have been legally settled at an even higher cost for the state.

Elsie signed all the necessary papers, and, as she had promised Matilda, drove them homeward with Leon strapped in the back seats with Matilda by his side.

"The people in our building are very nice. Except for Fu Manchu on second floor, who's prone to killing stray dogs once in a while." Matilda chatted. Leon didn't respond, continuing to look straight ahead. The drive was long, but pleasant, especially since it had been now over a year since he'd last seen the outside. Leon couldn't remember for certain, but he'd always thought spring was the most wonderful season. But now, staring out the window at the mid-October palette of nature basking in the last of the evenings warm rays, he was taken breathless. How had he missed this beauty before? The hours seemed to fly by as Matilda fell asleep leaning beside him.

When they finally arrived at the apartment, Elsie woke Matilda up and together they moved the stuff which had accumulated in the hospital room (mostly theirs to begin with, brought in bit by bit through the weeks), and then slowly guided Leon who had recovered most of the use of his body, but still required a cane to walk.

Leon stood for a while as the two girls rushed to tidy the apartment and organize the boxes of stuff they'd hauled back, feeling out of place, and suddenly unsure of himself. The apartment was quite similar to many of those he'd stayed in before – a common flat whose extended doorway led to a living room adjoined to a small kitchen beyond which was the main bedroom and bathroom, and a much smaller room that could serve as a secondary guest room or a storage space. From a glance, he knew immediately that the smaller room had been colonized by Matilda as several plush rabbits and a rather off-beat patchwork tapestry hung above the headrest.

"I think you'll like this pillow, Leon." Matilda said, her arms stacked full of bed-sheets and two pillows, the top one of which was pink and had a distinctive pig snout stuck out on one end. It was then that Leon noticed the living room (which apart from two bookcases and a small TV in between them) had suddenly been transformed to a bedroom of sorts. Leon watched as Elsie continued to tug at the sofa which extended into a full futon-bed, then attempted to make it as comfortable as possible with the things Matilda had brought over. The coffee table had been set off to the right side, and a small table with a lamp sat on the left so that it really did feel like a rather large bedroom.

"Okay." Elsie panted, wiping at the sweat at her brow. She then noticed Matilda swaying slightly to the side, hardly able to stifle her yawns any longer. "Matilda, bed. You, come here."

Leon looked around him for a second, and then blinked at her. "Me?"

"I understand that people who wake up from comas are somewhat rebooted in their mind; that is they're as conscious as all the rest of us, only the body's a little rusty. You, however, seem to have the opposite problem." Elsie said, raising an eyebrow. She sighed when he didn't respond to her observation, a blank look plastered to his face. "Yes, I was talking about you, big guy. See if this is comfortable." Leon limped over slowly, and hesitantly sat on the futon. It was strangely firm, and of good quality. He wondered whether she'd purchased this solely for his sake.

Seeing him settled, Matilda leaned over and kissed his cheek with a tight embrace, then finally retired with a yawn. "Goodnight, Leon."

"Goodnight." Leon watched her until the door clicked before turning around, to find the older woman staring at him incredulously. Suddenly feeling self-conscious, he ducked his head. "It's very good. Thank you."

Elsie stretched heartily. "If there's anything you need, tell me. Oh and, Matilda's told me all about your habit of sleeping sitting with one eye open. You're not allowed to do that here – in case anyone wakes up in the middle of the night." Leon hesitated, afraid to meet her in the eye. He nodded. "Okay."


	6. Chapter 6 - Giant Slayer

Chapter 6 – Giant Slayer

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><p>Elsie would not have believed it if it weren't for the evidence of her own eyes. Matilda hadn't lied or exaggerated any part of her incredible story of the cleaner of Little Italy – Leon Montana. The man who had spent nine months in a critical comatose state had recovered at an impossible, near inhuman speed without any difficulty at all and within six months, he was good enough to get back in the cleaning business.<p>

Normally, it would have taken the average human an amount of time at least on par with the amount of time spent in critical condition to regain at the very best - normalcy. She expected that perhaps, because of his excellent physical condition beforehand, he might have not only regained normalcy but a full recovery by nine months' time, but it surpassed all expectation to see such an improvement occur in a mere six month period. She should have known he must have pushed himself to breaking point in order to regain his body strength in two thirds normal time; she should have known his stony silence (even for a normally quiet man) indicated a brewing storm, the shadow of things of come. She should have seen something coming.

But whenever she did notice him, Elsie only observed the giant of a man relentlessly pushing his body with his daily exercise, until his muscles rippled dangerously across his back whenever he went to get his milk – a frightening but also strangely fascinating sight. She only saw the silent way in which he chopped carrots and other assortments of vegetables and cooked up the most delicious meals she'd ever tasted – claiming they were 'healthier' than the meals they'd been eating. She only enjoyed the presence of a care taker/cook/bodyguard/extra pair of hands and didn't give him any more thought or credit above that. As if the man did not have a brain, and a heart – and a soul.

So when she got a call one afternoon during a meeting with the Boston Police department concerning hologram replication technique from a flustered and scared Matilda, she knew in her gut that he had pulled something insane – and it was her fault for not seeing it coming.

Elsie and Matilda waited together that evening in silence, as the time ticked slowly by. It wasn't until near midnight that a soft knock sounded at the door. Both rushed to get to the door, and opened it in a hurry to reveal the giant of a man in a pair of ridiculous shades useless in this time of night (not to mention this time of year), a large trench coat, and two bulky duffel bags.

"Leon! Where have you been?!" Matilda cried, pulling him inside. "Elsie and I stayed up the entire night to wait for you – you didn't even leave a note, and I thought – I thought-" She began to blubber, and cried into his arms. Leon dropped his bags almost as if by instinct, and Elsie noticed that they made a rather dull and heavy sounding thud on the floor. "Matilda, I'm sorry. I went to get rid of Tony and –"

She suddenly pulled away from him, eyes large and glassy. "You… _killed_ Tony?!"

The hitman nodded. "He paid for everything he did to us. Him and all his friends. I made sure he paid." Matilda slowly shook her head, and then turned to look at Elsie. Leon followed the girl's frightened gaze and saw the woman who had opened the door for him earlier- the woman who saved his life, stand frozen with horror at their conversation. He knew what ran through her head- he'd gone over every possible scenario in those quiet mornings when he was all alone in the apartment, doing his exercises over and over and over again in preparation.

She was a police investigator, on the side of the law. Elsie's mind screamed at her to apprehend the man before her, but the more overwhelming emotion that ran rampant through her mind was to beat the crap out of him for endangering their – her and Matilda's – lives in such a manner.

Matilda looked at her in desperation. "Elsie… he's just… he was a thug. Didn't even have legal permit to work here – not even a real ID, remember? He didn't even exist to the government. He was a horrible man, you have to understand – he- I told you he- his death probably saved the lives of a lot of people." The girl pleaded quietly.

"Yeah, I… remember what you told me, Matilda. Don't worry, it's not my case, and has nothing to do with us. Go to bed, it's… it's too late." Elsie shook herself with a grin, though she knew it didn't fool the observant girl one bit. Still, Matilda obeyed; knowing that sooner or later there had to be a talk between the two. She grew up understanding that sometimes, adults had to be left to themselves. Although she feared no consequence or punishment with Leon or Elsie, the intuition regarding when to make her leave before things got ugly had been an instinct ingrained into her as a child. She acted upon it instantaneously, and after kissing Leon's cheek as she always did (albeit much lighter and faster this time), Matilda rushed off to her private space.

After the resounding click of Matilda's door that strangely echoed through the silence of the night, it was several moments before either of them spoke. Finally, Leon rose to his feet, and reached for one of the bags. He didn't need to say anything for her to know what was inside. "I'm sorry for all the trouble we have caused. If it is not enough, I will-"

"What. The. _FUCK_. Are you talking about!?" Elsie snarled, and tossed his money onto the futon. Leon took a step back when she advanced, and then stopped firmly. "I'm taking Matilda with me. We will not bother you any longer. Thank you for all this time, but I-"

"_What_?! WHAT_?! _You're – you want to – to leave?! Just like that?!" Elsie struggled to keep her voice below shouting, but the anger that boiled in her veins threatened to explode. "And go where?! Have you ever thought of what Matilda might think?!"

Leon looked away for a moment. Suddenly pissed off at the ridiculous and stupid shades he was still wearing, Elsie snatched them from his face and threw them on the futon as well. "_Look at me when I'm talking to you, damn it!_" She snarled, but then suddenly regretted her action for when the man turned to look at him, all she saw were large hazel eyes, filled with sadness and guilt. Elsie opened her mouth and then closed it again. She had forgot – though he had the body of a man able to instil terror into the bravest, his mind was as simple as that of a child. She ruffled her dark hair furiously with both hands, a fallback habit, Leon noticed, for whenever she was most upset. "Damn it! Shit. Shit. _Shit!"_

Elsie turned away and then back to face him, dark eyes hard as flint and dangerous. "Matilda is my legal responsibility. Technically speaking, I have more right to her in this world than you do. Also, when I signed those papers in the hospital, you became my legal responsibility too. And, I warned you before – you promised to help me with my work first, and you gotta live up to that end of the bargain. Names, organizations, everything I need." She took a deep breath. "So if you really hate this place so much – if you really hate me so much, fine. You can go through the legal procedures and what-not and take her with you. I thought you needed to heal up completely before I'd grill you – but we can do it now if you want to. Sit down, and let's get this over with."

Leon stared at the woman before him, dressed in a casual grey sweater and loose pants, obviously intending to have waited the entire night up with Matilda. He suddenly felt his blood pressure rise in panic, at a loss for words as she stared at him. "I..I don't.." He had never been good at this kind of thing, speaking emotions. He didn't have a way with words like some people did, even back home in his native tongue. It was why he hardly spoke at all. "…It's not what you… think." That didn't seem to do the trick however, as a fierce expression overcame her.

"Then why don't you say it?! Goddamn it! Why won't you resolve things like normal people do?! I said SIT DOWN!" She snatched the front of his jacket and pushed him hard. Leon gasped with a sudden violent cough, and stumbled backwards until he fell on the edge of the futon. Elsie started in horror at his reaction, hand still outstretched before her.

At first instinct, she thought she'd really pushed him too hard. She had taken the necessary defense training courses before qualifying as a member of the police force – even if it had been years since her last real workout and her real job had almost zero physical demand. But then reason overcame irrational instinct, and the fact that a six foot four hulk who'd spent his entire life developing his physical prowess had crumbled from her pathetic shove. She stared at him as he clutched at the place where she'd pushed him, and it was only then that she noticed how pale his skin was, almost glistening with sheen of sweat. His breathing was shallow, as if it hurt him to exert too much energy.

As realization dawned upon her, Elsie felt her heart sink in her chest. _Oh God. _Of course. He was wounded – that must have been why he had kept the heavy coat tightly buttoned up, and that pair of shades… Matilda would have been more observant and noticed his obvious discomfort. That cough didn't sound good. "Take off your clothes." Elsie said quietly after sucking in a breath of her own. Leon looked up at her in overt surprise and some disbelief. _What?_ His eyes seemed to ask. Elsie hesitated, glancing at Matilda's closed door. "No, you're right – come here."

This time she gently tugged at his elbow until, bewildered, he followed after her as she led them into her room. He'd rarely seen the inside of what he considered to be her private quarters, and the mess of clothing and random scrunched up balls of papers scattered across the floor proved to be a startling contrast with the pristine living room (pristine due to his vigilance). Rushing out into the washroom, Elsie returned and closed the door behind her. Leon saw a large white box in her hands atop of several washcloths, a plastic bucket and a kettle of water, and watched as she placed it near the lamp by the side of her bed. "Sit." She muttered flatly, and he obeyed, sitting gingerly upon the edge of her bed. After closing the curtains on the window, she walked over to his side. "You can take off your clothes now. This way, if Matilda wakes up, at least she won't have to see what you did to yourself." Leon stared at her as if there was a disconnection between them, and he couldn't fully comprehend her words to him. Elsie waited patiently.

Leon toyed with a button on his coat in hesitation, glancing warily about him. After much fidgeting (and an impatient growl from the woman), he finally acquiesced and cautiously unbuttoned his coat. Elsie tried to keep a stoic face when she saw the bloodied shirt, whose white color seemed non-existent now that a heavy coat of brilliant crimson stained through it completely. Leon fumbled with this inner layer, which seemed to stick to his body like a second skin. When he finally removed it with some help, Elsie couldn't help a sharp intake of breath at the sight he beheld.

The man had somehow stitched up what seemed to be a short but deep knife gash across his chest, and a rough uneven wound that resembled a dangerously close bullet graze. Obviously, both were aimed at his heart, and luckily, both missed by mere inches. A sudden feeling of guilt passed over her as she realized that her unfortunate shove had exacerbated the problem, and with this gnawing feeling of irritation, she wet a nearby towel and tried to clean the areas around the wounds.

Leon jumped and snatched at the wet cloth when she approached him, with a quick "I can do it", but as soon as he turned to clean himself off, she came back with another towel and swiped at a different area. From the harsh scowl she wore, he didn't dare try to push her away this time. But all the same, an immense sense of embarrassment and shame overcame him.

"Stop flinching." It had been almost two hours since he'd done the job, and most of the bleeding had stopped thanks to his handiwork. But still, he couldn't help but notice that the shallow bucket of lukewarm water had turned a sickening red when she finally finished with him.

"You did a good job with this." Elsie muttered, glancing at his wounds. The stitches were tight and covered only what was necessary to encourage healing. _Even if it was obviously done with a darning needle and string._

"It is a necessary skill to learn in my trade." Leon replied. Elsie didn't comment about the myriad of other scars that marred his otherwise fine physique. He was thankful for that-the fact that she didn't take any closer looks, or pry into the silver lines that criss-crossed each other, forever etched into his skin as a memoire of past expeditions. "This will sting – but it'll be over in a second. Not alcohol." was all she said as she rubbed a dark yellow iodine solution over the open wounds. Leon felt the cool sensation tickle at his sore skin, and embraced the feel of clean gauze and bandages that were wrapped around him over and over again until it felt as if a heavy blanket covered him in all the places that hurt.

"There." Satisfied, Elsie rose to her feet, knees cracking from having kneeled for too long. She handed him a bottle containing two small red pills and a larger yellow pill. "These are painkillers and a weak antibiotic. You should take them. If you trust me enough."

Leon ran his fingers over the bandages that crossed his chest and over one shoulder, and then rose to his feet. "Thank you." He said quietly, and took the plastic bottle from her hand.

Elsie sighed wearily, and Leon suddenly noticed the dark circles beneath her eyes. A tremendous sense of guilt washed over him. "Please… don't do something reckless like this again. Matilda lost you once – and it almost killed her. I can't bear to see that again, so take better care of yourself, alright? You should rest now - we can settle all the legal business tomorrow if you like."

He nodded numbly, and then slowly walked toward the living room, where he'd made his stay. He heard her clean the towels and bucket immediately, and stuff his bloodied wasted shirt into the trashcan – so as to not leave any trace of trouble behind. Hours after he heard her finally retire to bed, Leon lay wide awake, fingers grazing the bandages that adorned him.


End file.
